Shapeshifters

A poem to appreciate clouds

billowing and bounding,

the shapes of nothing twist and contort,

conforming to none;

above our heads

marring the sky's bioluminescence 

whilst painting familiar frescoes 

of childhood memories,

and the future that will keep coming;

until we blink

and they are gone

Author's Note

The title of this piece is still a work in progress, so any suggestions are welcome- 'Above' is another title idea that I had.
I'm also not so sure as to how this poem should be presented, capital letters go where?

Reviews

[mayspeller]

Thinking about naming this Cumloninbus. Thoughts?